I love avocados, sometimes (read: daily) stand on my head to get my creative juices flowing, and I could listen to The Beatles sing, “I’ve Just Seen A Face” everyday, for the rest of forever.

Wondering what goes on here? Yup, so are the rest of us.

1. I am a lifestyle photographer. I have the most remarkable clients in the world, and I share their images here to inspire us all to live life with greater love, meaning and joy.

2. I am a writer. This blog is full of many of the curious thinks I have thunk.

3. I am a speaker and life/business consultant. I post upcoming speaking engagements and consulting information here as well.

4. I am most fulfilled by my work as a wife and mother to my 4 sons, one of whom now lives in Heaven. I share bits and pieces of our journey here on this blog. Including our ongoing struggle with grief, our experiences with ADHD and SPD, and our solid faith in a God much bigger than the challenges we face.

But ultimately, I hope that this blog is about something much bigger than all of that.My dream is for this blog to be a place where real life comes to be celebrated and enthusiastically embraced. Not just the pretty stuff, with tailored hems, clean lines,and the new colors for spring . . . but everything else, too. The frazzled mornings, broken hearts, crazy dreams, messy kitchens. . . even the fear, failure, hopelessness and devastation. I want this blog to be a place for every bit of what makes us all living, breathing, feeling human beings, experiencing together this remarkable thing called life.

May this be a place of passion, purpose, laughter, tears, friendship, encouragement and inspiration for us all.

In 2010, our perfect *”Baby Gavin” returned to Heaven after losing a courageous battle with **Pertussis (whooping cough). We are eternally and profoundly grateful to the thousands upon thousands (upon thousands) of friends and strangers from all over the world, of all faiths and creeds, who united with our family in prayer during Baby Gavin’s horrific illness and who grieved with us and continued to petition God in our behalf during the dark days following his tragic death. You may read Gavin’s story as it unfolded by visiting my old blog here. I am committed to sharing my ongoing struggles with grief and our journey toward joy here on the new blog. I am always humbled and amazed by the continued outpouring of love and support. Thank you for sharing in our journey and inspiring us with your unceasing love! God is good!

*My brother Gavin passed away unexpectedly in 2007. With all these Angel Gavins, it can get a little confusing at times, so just know that when I refer to “Gavin” I’m referring to my wonderful brother. When I refer to “Baby Gavin,” it is in reference to my perfect son, both of whom I cannot wait to see in Heaven!

**You will periodically see me blog about The Sounds of Pertussis campaign. I am an unpaid spokesperson and am only compensated travel expenses where applicable for my involvement with this important cause. Join our fight against this deadly communicable disease at www.soundsofpertussis.com or like us on facebook at www.facebook.com/soundsofpertussis.

Getting ready to move, and I found a box of things I kept from the hospital after Gavin died…

Inside was a picture one of the nurses took of me holding him as we said goodbye. It was an interesting experience, seeing that again. Anyone else would likely have struggled to look at the image…found it morbid, probably.

His edema made his skin taught and paper thin. He was intubated and covered from top to bottom in tubes and wires (the highest IV was in the skin of his head and the lowest was inserted into the top of his right foot—then there were countless other tubes and wires littered across the space in between—so, in this case, “from top to bottom” is not used as a figure of speech). His coloring shows clear evidence of how close death loomed—literally moments away.

I’ve never been able to look at the picture myself for longer than a glance without turning my head, and I am his mother. . .

But this time was different.

I not only found myself able to look at the image, but I lost myself inside of it.

For the first time ever, I looked at that boy, in that physical state, and I didn’t want to turn away. In truth, for the first time ever, I saw so.much.beauty there.

The image didn’t disturb me at all. . .there was so much love in my heart— longing, yes, and also abundant love—overwhelming in proportion.

I wept tears of joy at the peace I had found.

_________________________________________________

I share this for those who mourn—no matter the cause.

I share this for those who are in the darkest parts of the trauma called “grief.”

There is hope.

There is another side of the tunnel called grief—for it is, as they say, a tunnel, not a cave (though I know there are days, weeks, months, years even when it certainly does not feel that way).

Someday, you will be able to open the box of the darkest hours of memory, and the terror will be gone.

There will always be remnants of sorrow and pain, it is evidence of our very humanity, evidence of the depth of our love, but the terror, the horror, the racing heart, the crushing in your chest, the inability to recall and look at certain events of your past without the threat of complete physiological and emotional overwhelm. . . that can change.

It can.

The change comes in and through a God, a literal Father in Heaven, who knows and loves you perfectly.

Ask.

Wait.

Exercise patience (though I know, the wait can be excruciating).

And through his perfect love and grace, you can find peace, even understanding, to free you from that darkest part of the grief and pain by which you are bound.

I KNOW this is true, for I have lived it.

It took a miracle, but thankfully, we live in a world that is full of those.

Karen Schlink:
Natalie this is beautiful and amazing! Praise God!! Hope is a beautiful thing, and I am so thankful and happy that you've found this in Him. <3 Love you so much! June 3, 2013 9:12 am

Rosie:
This post is so, so beautiful. How wonderful that you've been able to find peace. June 3, 2013 9:16 am

Chelsea Nielsen:
I love this so much. You are seriously such an inspiration to me in. so. many. ways. I love you dear friend! June 3, 2013 9:18 am

natalie:
Chelsea, You are an inspiration to SO MANY. I hope you know that. xxoo! June 3, 2013 9:30 am

natalie:
Rosie, There was a period of time when I honestly believed that all of life would be consumed by an undercurrent of horror. Sincerely. I had come to terms with that on some level. . . but I was wrong. Hope isn't just enduring hardship with gritted teeth. There is actual PEACE and RELIEF in hope (and faith). It's been a tremendous (and liberating) season of learning and growth. . . xxoo, N June 3, 2013 9:33 am

Audrey:
I am so sorry for your lost. My Hannah passed away 2 months ago unexpectedly. She was 3 years old. She had a seizure disorder but we thought we had it all figured out. I love the peace we have been able to hold on to during this time. Still allowing ourselves to feel the whole spectrum of emotions that come, I focus on preserving her memory and doing what I can to be worthy to be with her again. Thank you for sharing your experience. Writing it down is much harder for me than talking about it. June 3, 2013 10:45 am

Kim Orlandini:
Nat, I love you. I don't think you could ever know just how much. I love your words because as a mother, not having lost a child, but a pregnancy that was long hoped for, I felt this crushing heart pain. That pain isn't so excruciating anymore, but I have new heartbreak and struggle that feel almost as heavy and intense and heart wrenching. Thank you for reminding me of hope today. Thanks for reminding me not to give up, because so so often that is what I feel like doing. I won't give up today, because of you. Much, much love and prayers. Always. xoxo June 3, 2013 11:17 am

Marie Rose:
Oh Natalie, I heart you! You are ah-mazing. I am in awe of your strength. BTW...where are moving? How did I miss this one? Back to Hawaii?! June 3, 2013 12:11 pm

Claire Atherfold:
I love this post, there are no other words. Praise the Lord. June 5, 2013 2:55 pm

Rachel:
Natalie, thank you for sharing your beautiful testimony and letting us into your heart. I have a couple other dear friends facing the loss of a child and I know your words will touch so many and your faith. You already have touched my life in so many ways. Thank you for sharing! June 11, 2013 7:06 pm

Jordan Gomez:
I just want to hug you! What overwhelming courage and love it took for this post!! I don't know you although we exchanged a super sweet email and I just love you! I am now pregnant in my 4th month and you brig tears to my eyes even more rapidly than before! Constantly sendin you love and prayers!!! Jordan June 12, 2013 9:37 pm

Skwebb:
I really love these words. I have felt these emotions unfortunately in my life as well. I say unfortunately, but I mean it with gratitude. I have found so much hope through my journey that I would have never stumbled upon. Somehow I stood there, raised my hand and agreed to all of these things i would go through. I'm still scared but have so much hope and faith to lead me. I love this so very much. Thank you for sharing your story with your sweet words about your mighty boy.
Sarah July 7, 2013 10:55 pm

Stephanie:
I do not know what lead me to this blog today
, but I am currently in the "cave" of grief. I cannot see a tunnel. It is very comforting to hear that yes, indeed, there is hope. I can't wait until I can feel that hope, but you have given me hope that there is hope. So, thank you. July 11, 2013 1:24 pm

Julee George:
I hope the move went well and you are all adjusting quickly! We are still here for you. August 8, 2013 8:29 am

Maile:
This was so beautiful, and moving. What a gift to the world you are. August 17, 2013 10:36 am

Kate S.:
"I wept tears of joy at the peace I had found." I burst into tears at that part. Thank you. Lots of love. August 18, 2013 7:43 pm

ali:
sheesh, natalie norton. you are a GIFT to the world! August 26, 2013 12:10 pm

Liezl:
Natalie, I came to your page after reading your DIY Reflector article on DPS. I came here expecting more tips from a really lovely, happy sounding photographer. I was not expecting this. I have no words other than to say that I am so, so sorry for your loss. And that reading one simple tutorial and this heartbreaking, but honest piece tells me that you are a very special person that will not only get through this, but will help others struggling with the same thing. Wishing you love and peace. X August 27, 2013 11:24 pm

vidura sandaruwan:
hey...im a sri lankan....i saw your pictures...really really they are very nice...i want tobecome a wedding photographer...that is why im followed your photos...if you have a free time mail me...i need some helps September 25, 2013 5:00 am

natalie:
Vidura, I'm more than happy to help. If you click the photographer resources button on the blog navigation bar, you'll find all my consulting options. Cheers! Natalie October 2, 2013 9:15 am

It’s like I’m coming home to a long lost friend. The kind of friend who once understood me completely and loved me without condition. The kind of friend who, once upon a time, would have been there for me, no matter what. . . But it’s been so long. What if things have changed? What if it’s simply been too long? What if I’ve muddled everything?

I’m afraid.

In fact, my heart is pounding through my chest. (And tears are streaming down my cheeks. . . which really embarrasses me—full disclosure, remember? It’s my thing. Or have I been away so long that you’ve forgotten?)

“This is absurd,” you say? I KNOW! You are ABSOLUTELY correct. This is absurd. We’re talking about a BLOG here, and a peripheral one at that! I.hear.you. I feeeeeeeeel you. And, despite it all, this is exceptionally hard. Picking up the pieces and beginning again where I stand is hard in a way that I could never, ever have anticipated.

It hurts to worry that no one is left to listen. It hurts to admit that, well, even if you are still there listening, I just don’t know what I have left to say. And THAT? Well, that’s the most horrifying admission of them all. . .

So, why today? Why not yesterday? A week ago, a month ago, six?

Why am I suddenly ready, today?

Oh, I’m not. Ready. Not at all.

But enough. Enough. Because this isn’t about me. It has nothing to do with me at all.

Let’s help give this family the miracle they so deserve. Let’s help these beautiful brothers grow up together.

Let’s fix Adler, together.

xx,

N

*Sarah, McKay, Adler and the rest of you sweet kindred stranger-friends of mine, I pray so earnestly that you receive a miracle. I pray with every beat of my heart that God hears my prayers. I pray fervently that His perfect will is aligned with my own. And I pray, with the entirety of my broken heart, that your miracle looks far different than my own—I pray that your miracle ends with happily ever after. . . together. . .forever. . .here . . .now. Infinite love, and the most heartfelt namaste, Natalie

Rosemary Fansher:
Natalie, welcome back to where you belong. The world needs you, your wisdom, your heart. Thank you for being brave and courageous, for, as our mutual friend Brene says, for DARING GREATLY. I am in the arena with you. You are never alone. ;) May 1, 2013 10:14 pm

Libby Nelson:
I love that you had the courage to come back. The www is richer with you here. Thank you for sharing Adler's story. Going to do what I can. May 1, 2013 10:14 pm

jen:
Still here. Think about you often. Thanks for sharing this sweet story. May 1, 2013 10:16 pm

Vandi:
I can understand your absence and have never held it against you. In fact, I've respected it. But know I will always be here and consider it a blessing to read any thoughts or words you might share. Even if you feel you have nothing to share, you're 'nothing' somehow still inspires : ) Thank you so much for sharing Adler's story....I pray so much for his miracle. May 1, 2013 10:24 pm

Julee:
Natalie, I've missed you! Just know that we are here for you. You have a powerful, beautiful, and loud voice. I pray for you and I will pray for Adler. May 1, 2013 11:11 pm

Asli Tur:
Dear Natalie,
Not sure if this would help, but the story of this one woman has amazed me in the past, maybe she can be contacted. She suffered with kidney failure in her son, and found herbal natural ways to bring up his kidney function significantly. Here's a link to her book : http://momsherbguide.com
Also I think they still produce herbal things and sell them: http://www.mountainmeadowherbs.com/aboutus.asp
Hope this is helpful.
Asli May 1, 2013 11:40 pm

Cat Humphrey:
I've missed you Natalie & thank you for finding the strength to type the first word of this post, may you continue to find more strength with each word you write & especially with each comment you read. We're here for you :o) xx May 2, 2013 12:57 am

Debbie:
What's so beautiful about you is that you have a deep desire to help anyone who is in need/want of fixing. Everyone falls into that category. So, no need to fear. You are on an errand, and because of that people will ALWAYS listen. xoxo to you, Adler, and his family. May 2, 2013 2:14 am

Kate:
The timing is so coincidental; I just checked your blog last weekend because I wondered if my Reader was broken and had stopped showing me updates. I've been following your story and praying for you. It's nice to "see" you again. May 2, 2013 6:27 am

Kate:
Welcome back, Natalie. Your voice will always be relevant and powerful because it is your authentic voice. Thank you for sharing your passion with so many. Your perspective matters! May 2, 2013 6:32 am

Jenny:
Glad your back! PrAyErS for Adler and his family :) May 2, 2013 6:13 pm

angel:
Nat, I love that I just felt like "checking your blog" and found your new post! Because I had just sent a text to some friends that said, "It's been 12 months since I could say these words, but today, I can honestly say, 'I feel like a million bucks!'" Life is about seasons. Some thoughts that carry me are, "Your mess is your message" (Cherie Burton) and the idea that as we descend below all things, we can then rise above them. love your guts! May 2, 2013 10:46 pm

Carol:
Natalie, just had a feeling it was time to check your blog to see if you were there - and yes - great to see you back :-) Your way with words always hits a chord with me - you are an inspiration! Thanks for sharing Adlers story - he is in my prayers and Yes Lets Fix Him. May 3, 2013 1:32 am

Lisa:
Nat, you could write about how you made your bed this morning or didn't make it, and you would still manage to inspire me. I'm glad you're back. May 3, 2013 7:43 pm

Jacqueline Griffin:
Dear Natalie. Thank you. Logging on to your blog and finding a post was like Christmas. As I was watching McKay's video (with tears streaming down my cheeks) my 3 year old went and fetched his tool box. When he came in the room he said to me "It's okay mummy, I've got my toolbox now I can fix whatever you need me to." Thank you for sharing this story. Let's Fix Him! May 6, 2013 8:39 am

Casey:
You know those moments in your life when you feel like you have been guided to a person. Well you are one of them. I haven't looked at blogs in like....forever. A sweet friend of mine passed away Monday leaving her six babies including her newborn behind. I was googling how to photograph a funeral and your tutorial came up. You are so inspirational. You help give others the strength they lack. Thank you for being you! May 8, 2013 9:51 am

Ann:
As an avid reader of your blog I have missed your words but haven't thought about checking in for a couple months now. Then today your blog and it's inspiration popped into my mind. I am sure it is because I need to help fix Adler. Thanks for coming back- I ALWAYS appreciate your words. May 9, 2013 1:40 am

Lindsay:
So excited to see you back! You were one of the first people I came across when I started this photography journey and the heart and soul you pour into your blog and imagery helped me put things in perspective. Thank you! May 22, 2013 10:52 am

Cloe:
Sweet Adler went to preschool with my son, and I had no idea he was sick until seeing this. Thank you for sharing. And I'm so glad you're back! :) June 14, 2013 9:49 pm

Ginette Sundin:
Please come back to the web. If only you knew all the people that you were encouraging, lives you were touching, the way that God uses your pain to shape others lives, to comfort those who feel the same. I know you will probably never know the depths of the way that God is using you, your story, your writing, your talents, your gifts, your trials, your sufferings....but I do hope and pray that you come back and process more with us. There needs to be more hope and truth out here on the internet....and more voices like yours. Thank you for all you have done here...you are a gift and a blessing and a teacher and a mentor and even in a way,a friend. Thank you. July 8, 2013 12:01 am

This full of joy, full of love, full of life family is so special to me. I went to high school with momma, Natalie. Now, she’s the mother of FIVE. It’s totally bewildering to me that someone my age can actually have that many children! . . . Then I remember that I’m actually 31 (snerk), and it’s completely realistic for a 31 year old to have five children. . . and after that, I remember that I myself am actually the mother of four (it’s so easy to forget that my family is a lot bigger than it looks/feels, and while we’re on the subject, why does four seem like so many more humans than three?!) Anyway, I hope you enjoy looking at these blissful images as much as I enjoyed shooting them. xoxoxo, N

For those who are interested, this entire session was shot in under 20 minutes flat. . .same thing is true of this shoot from yesterday of Cynthia and her beautiful babes (and of the subsequent posts that will be coming your way over the next couple of days). So many people associate getting family pictures taken with hours of stiff, unnatural torture. It’s just not the case. It CAN be FUN! So if your husband is constantly resisting family pics (cough cough), simply direct him here. And then remind him that if you can push a watermelon out of your you-know -what, he handle 20 minutes of camera time (forcryingoutloud). Namaste. ;)

Emily Koska:
Love this family! Gorgeous images :) I really loved the comments at the end....it totally made me laugh. It's too bad that I can't use that excuse with my hubby yet. Someday!! BTW...i'm totally curious what lenses you used in just 20 mins? :) December 13, 2012 7:42 pm

echo:
i swear you have the most gorgeous friends. December 13, 2012 8:25 pm

natalie:
Hi Emily! I used the same 2 lenses I use on every shoot- my 50mm 1.2 and my 24mm 1.4! xoxoxoxoxox December 13, 2012 9:05 pm

Liz:
Beautiful, warming images!! Thanks for the last part of your post. I had a less-than-confidence building session a couple of months ago with a cute family, but the husband was just not into it (and it was blinding sun and freezing cold). However, AFTER the session he now sees the value in it :) And that it's not torture. December 14, 2012 6:57 am

natalie:
Liz, On one particular occasion, only once mind you, I had to stop an entire session and talk straight with the dad. I put my hand on his shoulder, looked into his eyes, and said, "I promise I know what I am doing. I need you to trust that aside from these people around you themselves, you will treasure nothing in your life more than you will treasure these images. I understand it's hard, but can you work with me?" He got teary eyed, and then kicked butt just being himself the rest of the session. (Found out later the dude has a bona fide phobia of being in front of the camera! But yes, he was SO GRATEFUL in the end, thanked me profusely and with more grace and sincerity than I have ever experienced. Don't be afraid to do similarly in the future if you need to! xoxoxoxoxoxo! December 14, 2012 8:02 am

It was the first thing I noticed. “I’m shaking, why am I shaking?” I thought.

No sooner had I peeled the sleep from my eyes, than they brimmed with hot, knowing tears.

I don’t know what I expected on a day like today. Not much. Certainly not this.

I sat up in bed, still trembling softly through my tears. “Happy third birthday, son,” I silently breathed.

I had known today was coming. She didn’t sneak up on me the way these kinds of days are prone to do. No, Today announced her arrival from down the street and around the corner. I spent the entirety of last week in anticipation.

Anticipation of what, exactly, I’m sure I don’t know.

“One week from today, he’d have turned three.”
“Once the weekend is over, there will only be three days to go . . .”
“The day after tomorrow. . .”
“Tomorrow is the day. . .”

Even then, you still wake up with trembling hands.

And so it goes.

I got the kids off to school (2 hours late), and settled in to cry the day away. You know, like you do on your dead son’s birthday.

Then, there was a knock.

A few deep breaths (and a quick wipe of the nose) later, I cautiously cracked open the front door.

I stared into loving, albeit somewhat reluctant and unfamiliar eyes. A moment later, all propriety fled, and I fell uncontrollably into safe, generous arms.

“I didn’t know what I could do,” she said, eyes wet with tears, “so I brought you the ocean.”

In her outstretched hand she held a candle, deep blue as the California coast.

On a day like today. . . this new friend brought me the sea.

__________________________________________________

And that’s what it’s all about.

Surely, if nothing else, that’s what my son taught us to do. That was Baby Gavin’s legacy. . . bring the sea.

When we bring the sea. . . we give the best of ourselves to the people around us.

We reach to the depths of who we are and offer unconditional love, freely and without requisite.

We give.

We smile, we laugh, we dance, we sing.

We respect and treasure what we have right in front of us.

We let go.

We forgive.

We don’t get carried away by tomorrows or pulled under by yesterdays.

We cry. . . deep, harrowing sobs. . . that crash over us without remorse.

We change.

We connect.

We feel.

We rejoice.

We share.

We serve.

We care.

We embrace.

We reach.

We strive.

We dream.

When we bring the sea, we LIVE, today, because we know that it is the only day that we are truly guaranteed. . .

__________________________________________________

Son, I love you more today than ever before. Loving you taught me how to live. In grief, I have learned more of life than I ever knew I could live.

“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterative, dislocating to both body and mind. We might expect that we will be prostrate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy.”

There has been much “obliterative” hurt, I have been “inconsolable” and quite “literally crazy.” Missing you has been “dislocating to both body and mind.” I have prayed for your return. I have begged, bargained, pleaded with the Lord . . . to do for me as he did for Lazarus. . . for Martha.

And yet. . .

And yet.

This is my life. There are unique lessons to be learned. Grief has been a mighty teacher, cruel and kind in almost the same breath. And I could never have learned in any other way.

This is my time to LIVE, to laugh, to cry, to connect, to give, to dream. . . this is my time to bring the sea. But YOU taught me that, little boy. Not grief. You.

Until that blessed moment when you are again in my arms, I love you with all of me. . . no, more.

Mom

The quotes in this post are from Joan Didion’s extraordinary exploration of grief, The Year of Magical Thinking. I recommend it to anyone who has ever experienced great loss.

Jamie:
Oh sweet Natalie. The hot tears just rain down for you. I could bring you the ocean today but I've cried and ocean of tears for you and prayed an infinity of prayers for you, Richie and the boys...you my dear are joy personified. Thank you for sharing your life with us, for being raw, truthful and not ashamed of the grief. We all have learned to live better because of your sweet Baby Gavin!
XOXO
Jamie October 24, 2012 4:15 pm

Jamie:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GAVIN!!! I am sure the party heaven throws is a million times more amazing than here, but we sure would have loved to have celebrate it with you, here! October 24, 2012 4:19 pm

lindsay mcbride:
You are extraordinary! I love you with my whole heart. I admire your strenth as I watch you from a distance. Know that I think and pray for you and your family often. You are one of the most beautiful humans I know and I mean that. Love you. October 24, 2012 4:19 pm

Hannah Nicole:
Crying. Sweet Natalie, this is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing your heart and being real with us all. My heart hurts for you and your family. Praying for all of you today. xoxo October 24, 2012 4:19 pm

Ann Allred:
Natalie: You are such an example for me! I have been blessedly(?) free of immediate loss in my life: parents, siblings, husband, children, grandchildren, all here and accounted for. But I know loss is coming -- I know it is just a heartbeat, a breath away. And having watched you valiantly, and sometimes wretchedly, move through your experience, I am better prepared. When my times of loss come, I will reach out to you, who have trod the lonely path. I am stronger knowing that your generous spirit will support me. My heart is tender for you and Richie today, just a little more than it usually is. I was going to say the traditional "God bless", but instead, we know "God blesses!" October 24, 2012 4:25 pm

ErinLeigh Cavin:
nat, I love you. fiercely. you are amazing. your strength astounding. your genuine raw openness with others an life invigorating. you give me hope. you give me strength. you give me faith. you open my eyes. I care about you more than you'd believe possible with only meeting you a handful of times. I am here for you. I am praying for you. October 24, 2012 4:28 pm

Kendall:
My heart continues to just ache for you and your sweet family... I started following your blog right before Gavin's passing, having just welcomed my own child a month and a half prior, and I don't believe there has been a day I haven't thought of you since... Once having a child of my own the reality and impact and thought alone of losing a baby left me in SUCH grief for you...On your last visit to San Diego I had hoped you could shoot our family, in part just to hug you... It didn't work out, but I know our paths will cross one day.. You write with such a beauty and eloquence not afforded to many... And your honesty is so appreciated... I'm rambling at this point... But just know hugs are being sent to you from all over this country and likely the world as well.. Its so awesome to be able to continue to read about your family and 'watch' them in sense continue to thrive and grow... Hugs from a Mama who is so impressed with your outlook on life and the ever after... October 24, 2012 4:35 pm

davina:
Natalie, I cannot even imagine what you've been through. The way you've written and shared your story and your grief is palpable and heartbreaking and beautiful and tragic and moving and soulful and so faithfilled. Ypu are amazing! Happy Birthday to Baby Gavin...and for you, hugs x 1000. October 24, 2012 5:15 pm

Kimberly Oyler:
oh sweet natalie.
we have never met. but i had to comment. i had to tell you that even a stranger is thinking about you and your sweet boy today. there is nothing i can say to change the way you feel, but i can pray to our loving God that He brings uncontainable peace and joy to you on this hard day. thank you for being so inspiring and continuing to give life.. even in your loss. October 24, 2012 6:01 pm

Marsha B:
Dearest Natalie ... thinking of you and your family and your precious little boy. I wish I could write such lovely words as you do but please know my heart aches for you. Through your heartfelt words you have taught me so much. To spend that extra time with my sons, to tell them how much I love them .constantly, to let go of those things that really aren't a big deal and to just live life. Much love to you. xx October 24, 2012 6:25 pm

a giveaway in honor of Gavin » Amy Paulson:
[...] a giveaway in honor of Gavin Posted in Uncategorized Today he would be three. I cannot write words as eloquently as his mom, so I ask you to go read hers. [...] October 24, 2012 6:26 pm

Kailey-Michelle:
Today would be my brothers 19th birthday. He passed at 6 months old from SIDS. I spent the day with mu mom who is so strong! While I know it was a hard day, she simply smiled at the candle we had burning for him. He laughed, we cried. We remembered. Thank you for sharing your story Natalie. It's a beautiful blessing to know you're not alone! Xo October 24, 2012 11:13 pm

shari:
beautiful, so beautiful. i know your words, your ability to share the deepest parts of you, have helped thousands across the world...and if that isn't paying tribute to sweet baby Gavin, I don't know what is. LOVE you dearly! You are always in my heart and have changed me forever. xoxo from HB October 25, 2012 7:57 am

Ihilani:
This is truly beautiful and heartbreaking. I can't believe it's been three years. I was about half way through my pregnancy when I heard about little Gavin fighting for his life. Today I look at my daughter and think he probably wouldn't be much different. And I spend a second thinking about what life would be like without her and I can't bear it. That you move through this tragedy allowing yourself to experience every emotion, and still manage to learn the lessons that you've learned and smile and teach the rest of us is a blessing I'll always be grateful for. October 26, 2012 12:23 am

sonya:
its amazing how your little guy is still bringing out the best in people. October 26, 2012 12:46 am

kristin:
Oh Natalie. I want to say I love you but that's a bit crazy because I don't even know you beyond your blog. I just want to give you a hug. Thank you for sharing your innermost self with others. You help me be a better mommy, a better person. You help me be determined to embrace each day even more. Thank you for lifting me even in your trial. You are in my thoughts and prayers. God bless your sweet new friend who brought you the sea. Angels among us . . . October 29, 2012 10:39 pm

Cyndi:
Natalie, my heart aches for you as a mother who knows loss too. I've lost two baby boys in utero, one at 19 weeks and one at 13 weeks, that I wanted so badly to raise here on earth. I just watched your Generations Project last night and I cried with you as you talked about your little Gavin and as you empathized with your grandmother's losses too. It is something that few will have to go through and sometimes it feels so lonely but thank you for inspiring me to keep going and keep striving to endure this particularly heart-wrenching trial. You have strengthened me, you have given me hope when I haven't had much, and you have shown me that it's okay to ache for what we have to wait through this lifetime to have again. God bless you. November 6, 2012 11:38 pm

natalie:
Cyndi, One more thing, there is hope, so much hope. In fact, it's all we have. Once, when I was in college, I looked up the word hope. One of the definitions is "to expect confidently." AND that is how we go on. . . that is how we keep striving and enduring, even when we feel as though our hearts are going to be ripped from our chests. . . we rest in hope. . . in the confident expectation that we will be with those children again. We will hold them in our arms. We will smell the sweet smell of heaven on their cheeks. We will blow rasberries on their bellies. . . and we will love them, raise them, have them, for eternity. I'm hugging you right now. I hope you feel it. November 7, 2012 9:18 am

natalie:
Kristin, I love you too!!!!! I feel like I know you. I don't think people get that when I read their heart-felt comments, like YOURS, I feel like we're old friends. I feel like I can see into your lives and like I'm a part of them. . . you though YOU sounded crazy. . . ;) And you are right, there are angels among us. I am certain. Love to you, woman! Lots and lots! Nat November 7, 2012 9:22 am

natalie:
Ihilani, Thank you for this. It is so heart warming. Knowing people remember my son, that they think of him from time to time. . . well, it's just the greatest gift a mother like me could receive. Sincerely. November 7, 2012 9:26 am

natalie:
Shari, I love you. You are a kindred friend. Those are rare and beautiful friendships. Even rarer over the www. :) Love love love to you. November 7, 2012 9:26 am

natalie:
Kailey-Michelle, It really is a blessing to know you're not alone. I never want a soul to experience the loss of a loved one, but companionship through this kind of loss is a sacred and treasured gift from God. It really is. Love to your family, N November 7, 2012 9:27 am

natalie:
Marsha, I love this "let go of those things that really aren't a big deal and just live life." Exactly. I need reminding of this too often as well. xoxoxoxoxo! November 7, 2012 9:28 am

natalie:
Kimberly, That prayer of uncontainable peace and joy was absolutely answered. Gavin's 3rd birthday was a day I will never forget. Love and light and laughter and joy were abundant. Thank you for your heartfelt love and concern for us. Thank you for your prayers. Namaste, Nat November 7, 2012 9:30 am

Hailey:
I just came across your blog. I have a seven month old who is not vaccinated and two boys with bad colds and coughs. I immediately called the doctor to get my boys checked and get my sweety vaccinated. Our appointments in an hour. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. November 8, 2012 10:13 am

I had to take some time off to do just a little bit of this, living that is.

I needed to fall apart just a little.

I needed to have a good, long cry—to face the messy parts of what is.

I needed to shake some of the sorrow up to the surface, and exhale it away. . . or inhale it in. (I’m not sure there’s much of a difference with grief.)

It’s been 2 years now, almost 3, but usually it feels like last Thursday.

I go through this madness, thinking I shouldn’t be falling apart anymore. It’s foolish. What will people think? How will they react when they know the truth? What will they say when they know that sometimes, no often, it still hurts like Hell? That sometimes, no often, I still feel like I’m suffocating underneath it all?

. . . and then the sun comes out.

And then despite the rain, despite the thunder and the lightening, despite the begging and the longing and the bargaining and the pleading . . . through all of that weight. . . there’s light. And you know, somehow, someway everything truly is OK.

Out from under all.that.pain, you’re watching a miracle unfold. Right there in front of you. Layer by layer. Breath by breath.

And the miracle. . . is you.

You breathe in deep, flooded with inexplicable gratitude—oxygenating your very soul. Suddenly, for the first time in months, your feet hit the ground. You see all the pieces of yourself—the pieces of your sanity— and you know you can put it all back together again.

Marsha:
You are such a beautiful soul Natalie. I so enjoy reading your blog, your tweets and your facebook comments, you never sugar coat your life and thats what I find the most endearing.Your honesty is what makes you so brave and yet so fragile at the same time. I do wish though with all my might that I could take away your pain and sadness. xx September 13, 2012 12:55 am

Natalie Norton:
Marsha, brave and fragile. I think that right there is a recipe for a good life. And the pain makes me. . . me, so I'll keep it. :) :) Mwa. You are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. September 13, 2012 7:41 am

Natalie Norton:
Kate, Thank YOU. xoxoxo September 13, 2012 7:41 am

Natalie Norton:
Jamie M, Nothing makes me happier than hearing THAT: "I needed this today." I'm glad it was there for you when you needed it. :) I think I needed you and your comment today, too. So, thank YOU. September 13, 2012 7:43 am

shari:
oh YOU! YOU YOU YOU! I just love you. SO.VERY.MUCH! I have missed you. I have missed your beautiful words. I have been thinking and praying for you during your silence on the blog. Don't think I could ever forget you. Thank you dear, sweet Natalie for sharing your beautiful heart and soul with me. I wish my words could buoy you up and you could feel strength from my long distance hug (just wrap your arms around yourself and squeeze like crazy!) and imagine me by your side. I wish I could take the pain away. wish i could squash that awful emptiness and fill you up with happiness. through it all, you always come around to see the light, the positive side. your humble attitude is such an amazing example to me. lovely love you! XOXO from HB September 13, 2012 8:53 am

Kelly:
Oh, Natalie. How I ache for you in the pain that comes. I'm so sorry. ((hugs)) Thank you for your honesty and your reality. It reminds me of Philippians 4:7...the peace of God that surpasses all understanding. There's no other explanation for what sustains our broken hearts. "The miracle of YOU."...love it. September 13, 2012 9:00 am

Ashley:
tears flooded my face as my eyes gazed upon each of your word. It felt like what you wrote were the echoes of my heart & I felt, finally, understood. September 13, 2012 9:19 am

Dolly:
The fact that I know what you mean is daunting. Most days.... I want to ignore the grind of each day and I simply want to go there. Either [there] or at least to that place in grief where everything in the world disappears and all I am left with is the connection to the infinite hope of glorious reunion. September 13, 2012 11:09 am

Angi:
Oh Natalie... you have a way of really really getting into my heart and soul with your words. You articulate exactly what I want to say and how I feel. YOU are such an inspiration and breath of fresh air that is much needed in this chaotic crazy world. I love you and your sweet big fantastic heart! I pray and pray that I can find an out, a way to exhale it all out, or breathe it in, as you say. Either way, you give me such hope! Thank you so much for being you and opening your soul! Aloha!!! September 13, 2012 12:19 pm

Julee George:
You are so eloquent, soulful, faithful, gentle, brave, real, beautiful, an inspiration, and a miracle! Thank you for being so open and sharing your soul. I hope it does bring you peace, often. September 13, 2012 7:29 pm

Jenny Solar:
Oh Natalie... I know this is hard. And just because it's hard doesn't mean we'll think any less of you... if anything, I think even more of you. You, my friend, you're changing the world. Every day. You're SO SO brave and strong and loving and I'm SO thankful to have you as a friend. I'm sending you a HUGE hug through the interwebs... I hope you can feel it September 13, 2012 7:30 pm

Stephanie Joy:
You beautiful soul I love you. You are honest, but uplifting even in your darkest moments. I love you for it. Dearly. September 14, 2012 1:19 am

echo:
i couldn't agree with stephanie more. you are wonderful. and inspiring. thank you for being you. September 14, 2012 6:01 pm

Breanna:
These words are beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing your heart and being so very authentic. September 16, 2012 3:18 pm

natalie:
Breanna, Thank YOU for reading and for connecting with me. Genuinely. September 20, 2012 10:34 am

natalie:
Angi, You fill me with joy. Thank you for your kind words. They encourage me in equal proportion to what my posts do for you. Sincerely. September 20, 2012 10:37 am

natalie:
Dolly, I would give anything for you NOT to know what this feels like. I hope you know that. I love you, and I am ALWAYS here. September 20, 2012 10:37 am

natalie:
Kim, Kim, Kim. I know you are. You are one of the most genuinely empathic people I know. I love you. September 20, 2012 10:38 am

natalie:
Ashley, I wish you didn't understand. I wish no one did. But I hope these words brought your brittle heart some comfort, some knowledge that you are never alone. I am here and so is He, always. September 20, 2012 10:39 am

natalie:
Kelly, It truly does. . . surpass all understanding that is. It is a tender mercy from God. He loves us more than we know, doesn't he? It's pretty amazing to be privy to that knowledge. If only all the world knew how very, very close he really is. September 20, 2012 10:40 am

Diane:
Wow, I know exactly those feelings and that's exactly how I dealt with the grief too. Wishing you light and an evergrowing new normal plus the joy that will come again. September 21, 2012 9:09 pm

Candy:
oh how this resonates with me. I did not lose a precious baby as you did, so I know I can't relate but your words capture the grief of losing my Dad so well that I can barely type. And then, the hope and promise of a new day... thank you for sharing so much of yourself. September 24, 2012 4:02 pm